


Weighed Against a Feather

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:15:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike is judged. Written for Round One, Challenge Six of Last Author Standing: Jossverse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weighed Against a Feather

“All rise for the Tribunal Grace.”

The courtroom clamored upwards in a muffled cacophony. The Tribunal Grace, it’s head bowed under the weight of Justice’s crown moved with solemn pride across the floor to settle in the iron chair.

“Be seated.” The courtroom shuffled again. The bailiff, a stick of a creature with a long beak stared unblinkingly at the Tribunal Grace. “We call the defendant William Pratt, also called the Bloody, also called Spike, also called Chosen One, also called General of the 5th Rebellion, blood child of Drusilla, humanoid demonic, possessed by the mortal soul of his current container.”

The bailiff's skeletal hands clapped together and the previously empty table set before the iron chair was now occupied. Wrapped in the traditional saffron robes of the defendant, gaunt and bowed, Spike rested a hand to steady himself on the table.

“Defendant, you have been assigned council.” It continued. “You will have the span of this hour to speak with it. When that time has expired, you must present your case in full to the Tribunal Grace. From there, your eternity will be decided without appeal.”

The bailiff clapped again. The table rose up to become a room with two chairs. The second was soon filled by a man in a neat suit. It had been over four centuries since they had last met, but Spike had a good memory for faces.

“McDonald.” He leaned back in his chair. “Still a lawyer then.”

“Something like that.” The gravel voice was the same, the same quick eyes and long dark hair, but time wore everything down like water over stone and he moved like an old man. “Do you understand why you’re here?”

“Eternal judgement, yadda yadda.” He smiled grimly. “Will they weigh me against a feather?”

“No.” Lindsey frowned. “I’ve reviewed your life. You’ll have to approach this delicately.”

“You’ve reviewed my life, you know delicacy isn’t my strong suit.” Spike snorted.“Should I throw myself on the mercy of the court?”

“Doesn’t work like that.” Lindsey flipped idly through a few sheets of paper. “You’ll speak your piece and state your preference which may not be honored. In your case, there are only three options available. The first is complete obliteration. The second is to serve this court in a capacity chosen by the Tribunal Grace.”

“That’s what you choose.”

“That’s what was assigned to me.” He frowned. “There were.. are...complications.”

“What kind of complications?” Now Spike leaned forward, interested.

“It’s a long story for another day.” His grin hung oddly on the edges of his lip as though pasted there. “The last option is reincarnation without knowledge of destination.”

“What? No heaven and hell?”

“Their Representatives both fought over being entered into the options in your case.” He shook his head. “The Tribunal Grace dismissed their claims as too nebulous.”

“And what do you advise I choose?”

“I don’t. You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what to say that will best help you to get it.”

“Didn’t live this long letting other people put words in my mouth.” Spike leaned back in his chair. “How’d I die?”

“You don’t remember?”

“There was fire.” Spike waved his hand as if brushing it off. “Vague.”

“Your ship was ambushed. Atomized nearly instantly.” He fingered the stack of documents. “I would play up your acts of selflessness in the reb-”

“Selflessness?” Spike laughed. “I thought you reviewed me.”

“I did. In many time periods you were considered a hero.”

“Was I?” He smirked.

And then sat in silence for the rest of the hour. They stared at each other, full of time’s rough care, a silent empathy echoing between them. When the walls came down, Lindsey went with them and Spike found himself wishing he had stayed.

“Defendant, state your preference and justification.” The bailiff's long fingers sketched an arch between Spike and the Tribunal Grace.

“My preference? From a laundry list of bad choices? I reject them.” Spike barked a laugh, a startlingly rich and irreverent noise in the fragile womb of the court. “I want more life.”

“Your preference is then reincarnation?” The bailiff asked.

“No, you git. I want this.” He hit his fist against his chest. “This body, this decrepit bit of flesh. These eyes that watched empires rise and fall. This mind which has endured pain upon pain mingled with pleasure. These hands which caressed and killed. More days to eat, smoke, drink, fight, fuck and fall in love. I want to make another friend, kill another enemy. More of this!”

“Enough.” The bailiff’s hand silenced him. “The Tribunal Grace speaks now.”

It’s voice was a thousand voices, tumbling, chanting, rising and falling and twisted into one.

“You are a greedy speck of carbon. Already you have outlived your container’s mortal lifespan seven times over. And you ask for more?”

Spike nodded tightly.

“So be it. The court requires another collector. You have many names, take now Reaper too.”

The Tribunal Grace sighed, it’s breath dyeing saffron robes to black.

“Not quite what I mean.” Spike grumbled, but he straightened the robe, smoothing their lines until it fell duster like around him.

“Then you should have been more specific.” The Tribunal Grace’s mouth contorted in a smile, it’s thousand voices becoming one very familiar one. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Angel?” He started, before disappearing into the ether, dispatched to his first job.


End file.
